Alex nodded.
‘But that’s hardly going to take all afternoon, knowing you. How about going into the Ahlbin daughter’s death a bit more and trying to write a summary of what happened, so we’re all clear on the sequence of events? Not because I think we’ll unearth anything revolutionary, but it would be good to know we’d checked it out thoroughly.’
Fredrika gave a cautious smile, hardly daring to look at Joar. Maybe he was like Peder, one of those who hated to be passed over. She had not had time to form any proper opinion of him, but her first impression had been a good one. Really good. A quick glance in his direction reassured her. He looked completely unperturbed. Yes, she was impressed.
‘I’ll be glad to follow up the daughter’s death,’ she said, ‘but I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay very long this afternoon.’
‘It doesn’t matter. You can carry on tomorrow morning,’ Alex added quickly.
Peder tried to catch his eye across the table, wondering what was going on.
Alex felt anger bubbling up inside him, and swallowed several times.
‘Joar and I are going to pay a visit to the parish where the Ahlbins worked,’ he went on. ‘I had a call from the vicar there, earlier on today, and he was very keen to sound cooperative. We’ll interview him before we decide how to take it from there – see if there’s any reason to think anyone else was involved, or if we can assume Jakob was the sole perpetrator. And we’ll all offer up a prayer that we find their other daughter, Johanna, by the end of the day.’
Peder was staring at Alex.
‘And what am I going to do?’ he asked, trying not to sound as if he was whining.
He failed.
‘You are going to see the head of HR at two o’clock,’ Alex said dully. ‘And if I were you, I wouldn’t be late.’
Peder’s heart leapt with anxiety.
‘Was there anything else?’ said Alex.
Joar hesitated, but then went ahead.
‘We got the feeling the flat wasn’t their proper home,’ he said.
‘How do you mean?’ asked Alex.
Joar looked sideways at Peder, but found his colleague was sitting staring at the wall, his face immobile.
‘As I say, it was just a feeling,’ said Joar. ‘But it seemed so impersonal, almost as though the whole place was designed just for entertaining.’
‘We ought to investigate that angle,’ said Alex. ‘Summer cottages and the like won’t necessarily be in the parents’ names; one of the daughters could just as well be the registered owner. Fredrika, can you look into that, too, while you’re at it?’
Then Alex declared the meeting closed.
Peder, full of foreboding, went to see the head of HR, Margareta Berlin, at exactly two o’clock. He could not get Alex’s stern look out of his mind. He had to wait outside her door for a few minutes, before she asked him in. What the hell was this about?
‘Come in and shut the door,’ said Ms Berlin in her inimitable husky voice, very probably the result of high whisky consumption and lots of shouting at subordinates as she climbed her way to the top.
Peder did as he was told. He had enormous respect for the tall, powerfully built woman behind the desk. She wore her hair cut short, but still looked very feminine. Her large hand waved to indicate he was to take a seat on the other side of the desk.
‘Does the name Anna-Karin Larsson say anything to you?’ she asked, so brusquely that Peder jumped.
He shook his head and swallowed.
‘No,’ he said, embarrassed to find he had to clear his throat.
‘No?’ said Margareta, suddenly less abrasive, though her eyes were still dark with anger. ‘Hm, that’s rather what I thought.’
She paused before going on.
‘But maybe you do know whether you like a croissant with your coffee?’
Peder almost sighed with relief. If this was about nothing worse than that stupid remark, the meeting would soon be behind him. But he still had no idea who Anna-Karin Larsson was.
‘So,’ said Peder, with the lopsided smile he used for disarming women of all ages. ‘If it’s yesterday’s croissant incident you want to talk about, let me start by saying I meant no harm.’
‘Well that’s reassuring, at any rate,’ Margareta said drily.
‘No, I really didn’t,’ he said magnanimously, holding up his hands. ‘If anybody in the staff room took offence at my, er… how shall I put it, slightly crude way of expressing myself, I apologise. Of course.’
Margareta observed him across the desk. He stared back stubbornly.
‘Slightly crude?’ she said.
Peder hesitated.
‘Very crude, maybe?’
‘Yes, actually,’ she said, ‘extremely crude, even. And it’s a matter of deep regret that Anna-Karin was confronted with that sort of behaviour in only her third week with us.’
Peder gave a start. Anna-Karin Larsson. Was that her name, the luscious new trainee he’d made such a fool of himself with?
‘I shall go and see her and apologise in person, naturally,’ he said, talking so fast he almost started stuttering. ‘I…’
Margareta held up one hand to stop him.
‘Naturally you’ll apologise to her,’ she said forcefully. ‘That’s so self-evident as not to count as any kind of redress here.’
Bollocks. Some third-rate bit of skirt who couldn’t cope with the pressure except by running off to HR at the first opportunity. As if she could read his thoughts, Margareta said: ‘It wasn’t Anna-Karin who told us about this.’
‘Wasn’t it?’ Peder said mistrustfully.
‘No, it was someone else who found your behaviour offensive,’ said Margareta, who was now leaning across the table with a concerned look. ‘How are you, Peder, really?’
The question nonplussed him so much that he could not summon a reply. Margareta shook her head.
‘This has got to stop, Peder,’ she said loud and clear, in the sort of voice normally only used for addressing children. ‘Alex and I have been aware of what you’ve been going through these past eighteen months, and how it’s affected you. But that’s not enough, I’m afraid. To be blunt, you’ve put your foot in it once too often now, and this morning’s croissant episode was the final straw.’
Peder almost started to laugh, and raised his arms in a gesture of appeal.
‘Now hang on…’
‘No,’ roared Margareta, bringing the palm of her hand down on the desk with such force that Peder thought he could feel the floor shake. ‘No, I’ve hung on long enough. I wondered whether to intervene when you got drunk at the Christmas party and pinched Elin’s bottom, but I heard the two of you had worked it out between you and assumed you realised you’d gone too far. But clearly you hadn’t.’
You could have heard a pin drop, and Peder felt his objections to her verdict piling up and turning into a shout, which he only kept inside him with a huge effort. This wasn’t fair in any way and Peder was going to bloody well throttle the bastard who’d squealed about the croissants.
‘I’ve booked you a place on a workplace equality course which I think might be an eye-opener for you, Peder,’ she said frankly.
Seeing his reaction, she went on quickly:
‘My decision isn’t negotiable. You attend the course, or I take this problem to a higher level. I also want you to agree to an appointment with a psychologist through the healthcare provider we have a contract with.’
Peder opened his mouth and then closed it again, his face flaming.
‘We as employers cannot accept this sort of conduct, it simply won’t do,’ she said in the same firm tone, pushing a sheet of paper over the desk towards him. ‘The police force is no place for office fornication. Here, these are the dates and times of your appointments.’
For a moment he contemplated refusing to take the sheet of paper and telling her to shove it up her fat arse, and making a run for it. But then he remembered that Alex knew the story and even seemed to be in on the conspiracy. Peder clenched one fist so hard that the knuckles went white, and snatched the paper with the other hand.